Marnie noticed it in pieces first.
Small moments.
The kind that didn’t announce themselves loudly but settled quietly into her heart, waiting for her to finally understand what they meant.
It happened on an ordinary afternoon.
Michael had insisted—again—that she rest on the couch while he worked from home. His laptop sat open on the coffee table, medical journals and patient files neatly arranged. He looked every bit the composed doctor: sleeves rolled up, glasses perched on his nose, posture straight even in the comfort of their living room.
Marnie lay on her side, pillows propped behind her back, one hand absentmindedly resting on her belly.
The twins were awake.
She felt it clearly now—the distinct difference between their movements. One was gentle, almost shy, while the other se
